


A different feeling

by ynjunwhore



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Flashbacks, Incest, M/M, Memories, Words, at the beginning, fucks his step son, jaem is v confident, jaemin ha lols, kind of, kind of poetic ??, lots of self hate, step dad jeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:08:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23249002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ynjunwhore/pseuds/ynjunwhore
Summary: It's wrong. No, it's insane. This is something disgusting ― and yet.And yet.Jeno finds himself enjoying it.
Relationships: Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 89





	A different feeling

Jeno can’t say for sure when it started.

Oh, he knows when his feelings towards Jaemin changed. He knows when he stopped seeing Jaemin as his little boy, and started seeing him like everyone else who fell for him did. Started seeing him as the main rather than the background. But he doesn’t remember when the fleeting glances turned into heavy stares. He doesn’t know when this whole thing started ― a truthful lie, like two sides of a coin.

He knows that it’s wrong. Heck, he’d probably get murdered by his wife if she found him groping her son the way he does. But Jaemin is too sly, too much like water in cracks, gradually opening up Jeno and planting roots of himself in Jeno’s mind ― and heart. Hatred turned into want, as everything changes. (Feelings of regret turned into satisfaction.)

Jaemin smiles at him, a pretty little thing that makes Jeno’s heart stutter and skip a beat. He slides his shorts down, stepping out of them with another smile, a gleam in his eye that makes Jeno want to do things to him, things he shouldn’t think about even in private. (It’s what got him into this mess in the first place.)

He starts towards Jeno, that other beautiful ― dangerous, really ― smile tugging at his lips. Nothing can compare to Jaemin, not a thousand stars or galaxies, because Jaemin is brighter than all of them. He’s something bright and new and exciting, a billion in one. He laughs when Jeno stumbles towards him, a sound so out of place in Jeno’s room. (Dark, luxurious, something Jaemin absolutely detests.)

He tugs at Jeno’s tie, dragging his palms down the front of Jeno’s suit. “Fancy.” He mutters, dark eyes staring at Jeno playfully. He reminds Jeno of a puppy, cute and curious and something to care for, to protect. His eyelashes flutter shut when Jeno presses his lips against Jaemin’s own, insistent and impatient and full of worry. A promise of a tomorrow, even when they shouldn’t have one.

Jaemin tastes like a strawberries. Sweet and sugary, exactly like Jaemin himself. His lips are chapped, his body warm and comforting from where he’s pressed up against Jeno. His big shirt slides down his shoulder on one side, revealing smooth and unmarked skin. Jaemin is something else ― something so real it scares Jeno.

He pulls away first, smiling when he sees Jeno chase after his lips. He presses his palm against Jeno’s chest. “Easy.” He says softly, more of a breathy whisper than anything else. He tugs at Jeno’s tie again, poking his clothes. “These,” He murmurs, dark eyes sparkling, big and beautiful and so Jaemin. “Need to come off.”

Jeno nods, because Jaemin’s words are law. Have always been, actually. He doesn’t think he’s ever slipped out of his clothes in such a rush. Jaemin smiles, laying down on Jeno’s bed with his arms spread out on the pillows, his eyes blissfully closed, his eyelashes nearly brushing his cheekbones. Jeno wants to chase him, wants to follow blindly and see where it leads.

(He shouldn’t. He should leave, should back away. This is dangerous, a sense of wrongness seeping through the cracks that should be filled with water. But it’s pointless to linger on the what ifs.)

Jaemin sighs softly when he feels the bed dip under Jeno’s weight, a playful sort of smile growing on his face when Jeno presses his lips against Jaemin’s neck. A kiss to keep, a hidden growing feeling of shame, and a remembrance of something long forgotten. Then thousand words left unsaid. So many things linger in that soft press, and Jaemin hears them all.

He pulls at Jeno’s hair lightly, his sharp intake of breath when Jeno presses his weight onto him not going unnoticed. Jeno nips at his lips when he dips down to kiss Jaemin again, and Jaemin giggles. Jeno lets out a throaty sound, and Jaemin stares at him curiously.

Jeno smiles. “You’re cute.” He says, brushing Jaemin’s cheek with his thumb. “It’s kind of unfair.”

Jaemin doesn’t look away, but his cheeks lighten with a pretty color, and Jeno feels suddenly choked up. There’s a feeling inside him ― light, fluttery, nervous ― that he refuses to let out of its cage. It’s too wrong, and Jeno has already gone too way past the limits of his morally correct actions. The boundaries may be broken, but Jeno refuses to move them even more.

Jeno hears a sharp inhale when he presses himself even more into Jaemin, grinding down on Jaemin’s dick. Jaemin sputters weakly, his breath uneven and unsteady when Jeno does it again ― and again and again until Jaemin’s breath catches in his throat, words stumbling out of his mouth prettily. “Stop― wait. Not this. Now. Fuck― Jeno please.”

Jeno stops, a feeling of satisfaction being buried under tens of thousands of other feelings. “Why?” Jeno mutters, a hint of cruelty in his voice. “You weren’t going to cum without my permission were you?” Jeno grips Jaemin’s waist tightly, and Jaemin sighs quietly. His eyes are open still, dazed and big and sparkling again, unreal.

“N-no.” He says weakly, big watery eyes telling more than the truth. A story. A tale that’s never been told, one that Jeno aches to discover. No, that’s going too far, he reminds himself. Too far. And yet. “I don’t think that’s the truth Jaem.” Jeno says slowly. He smiles, playful, deadly. “You’re not lying to me are you?”

Of course he is. But Jeno couldn’t care less. Jaemin shakes his head no, and Jeno lets it pass.

He glances over to the door, which is good and locked because anyone could come in otherwise. (“But that’s part of the fun, silly.” Jaemin whines, pouting. Jeno frowns. “I don’t think your mother would appreciate me fucking her son.” He says exasperatedly. His words get through Jaemin though, and he grudgingly agrees to lock the door.)

His hands wander down, his palms pressed up against the flesh of Jaemin’s thighs. “Please.” Jaemin tries, his face flushed pink. His eyes swirling with held back words. “Please.” He repeats, this time his voice soft and meek. He’s afraid to beg. Afraid that Jeno will make him use more words than he has to.

(“What happened?” Jeno asks tentatively, afraid to say the wrong thing. Afraid that instead of making him talk, Jaemin will shut down like he always does. Fear rules this house, and Jeno wishes he could say otherwise. Jaemin lifts his head, and Jeno thinks that even at seventeen, crying his heart out and not giving a shit about how he looks, Jaemin is beautiful.

“I just―”

Jaemin hesitates for a few seconds, eyes puffy and red and still forever sparkling with those words, those feelings, those actions, that knowledge. There are still tears streaming down his face, but it only serves to make him look more ethereal, somehow more angelic in his humanity. “They made me speak.” He says, voice soft and cornered. “Made me say things I didn’t mean. I―”

“I hate words.”)

Jeno feels dread. Excitement. A jumble of all the things he shouldn’t feel around Jaemin. He feels everything but the one thing he should be feeling; fatherly. Maybe it’s because he’s never felt that way around Jaemin. Maybe it’s because he’s about to fuck him right now. Whatever it is, it’s enough to make Jeno feel bitter, disgusted at how thrilled he is at the thought of it.

Jaemin smiles bashfully when Jeno presses his finger against his rim. Jeno startles, but he doesn’t let it show. “Jaemin you filthy son of a mother.” Jeno says, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. But it’s a reminder that Jaemin isn’t delicate, isn’t the fragile pretty boy who everyone pins him to be. Jeno needs that reminder, because often enough he forgets.

(“I don’t need you to protect me!” Jaemin screams, his face red, his arms hugging his knees to his body. The pillows are everywhere, the windows broken, room looking nothing like it did a few days ago. Jeno laughs, a cruel thing that makes Jaemin take a pause. “Really?” Jeno asks, his temper flaring. Yuri comes into the room, her eyes full of concern.

“Where would you be right now if I hadn’t thrown that bastard out?”

He pulls at Jaemin’s arm harshly, ignoring the thrill it gives him, the disgusting feeling of pure want coursing through his veins. “Tell me,” He whispers harshly. “Because you act all tough and ruthless, but at the end of the day,” He smiles twistedly. “You’re just a little princess who needs a prince to protect you from the big, bad dragon.”

Jaemin twists out of his grasp, eyes suddenly dark and furious, lips set in a straight, harsh line, his frame strong and tense even in his vulnerable state. “And you’re just a dickwad who married my mom for money.” He mirrors Jeno’s angry smile. “You’re not a prince, you’re the dragon. Destroy and take, isn’t that your motto?”

He storms out the room, shoving Jeno harshly as he passes by. He pauses by the door, laying a hand pointedly on the wall. “I can take care of myself.” He repeats. And this time, Jeno believes him.)

Jaemin whimpers when Jeno fucks into him shallowly, thrusts lazy and uninterested. His eyes are closed, his shirt rumpled and bunched up at his waist. But he’s still a wonder, his silence loud and clear. (Jeno thinks that maybe it’s just Jeno himself being delusional, but he remembers the awestruck look in everyone’s eyes when they look at Jaemin, and he doubts.)

Jaemin looks at him pleadingly, lips parted with words still stuck in his throat. Jeno smiles teasingly. “Yes?” (He hates himself, despises the every part that makes him Jeno.) Jaemin closes his eyes again, the small pout he always has coming out to play. “Please,” He says, voice practically a whisper. “Please Jeno.”

Jeno hates himself. He’ll always hate himself for this. But he can let the world cease to exist for an hour or so, right?

He sets the pace, fast and harsh and everything he’s heard Jaemin loves. No, Jaemin is not made of glass. He’s made of something harder, of all things gold and silver. Jaemin doesn’t break easily. He’s not made of glass, but Jeno is. Another thing that makes his hatred grow. He drowns himself in the feeling of Jaemin, of his whines and whimpers and his need for more, his growing need for Jeno.

And he feels at peace. Because up until now, he’s never truly known the meaning of home. And he’s found it, finally. Home is Jaemin, and that’s enough for now.

(“That’s our dog, and I don’t―” Yuri pauses, her eyes lighting up as she sees someone descend from the stairs. “Jaemin!” She turns to Jeno, who’s busy trying to see who’s standing on the staircase. “Jeno honey, this is Jaemin. My son, remember?” She asks proudly.

Jeno nods, and Jaemin finally steps down, staring at his phone intensely. “Hi.” He mutters, his hands furiously typing on the screen with his thumbs. Yuri clears her throat. “Jaemin, where are your manners?” She says exasperatedly. She shakes her head apologetically at Jeno, but Jeno waves it away.

Jaemin looks up, his face bored and cold. “Left them back at dad’s.”

Jaemin is nothing like Yuri, his eyes big and vulnerable, his features androgynously beautiful, his stance casual and uncaring. He’s dressed in something simple, a shirt and jeans, something that makes Jeno instantly like him. Meeting someone who isn’t as rigid as Yuri is something to celebrate.

Jaemin turns to Jeno, still looking disinterested. “You’re her newest toy right?” Jaemin smiles when Yuri turns red, her hands clutching her purse tightly. “I’m kidding, obviously.” He puts an arm around his mom’s shoulders, and Yuri sighs again, looking at her son in playful disdain.

“I’m sure we’ll be a perfect family.")


End file.
